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Some of the team members wished to celebrate.
It was an odd mixture of attitudes. Cassidy was ready to do most of the work, to teach everyone about his cherished American traditions. Had Cassidy asked him directly how he felt about it, he would have lied. Halloween certainly felt like holiday for young people. He hadn’t considered what else the cowboy had planned, as Cassidy sat in the common room with fistfuls of damp sugar.
“Is this part of the festivities you have planned?”
“Not quite, everything for Halloween is all ready to go in the common room, scary movies and enough candy for everyone twice over.”
He turned away from the table, hands held out in front of himself, rubbing his face in the crook of his elbow. His hat was gone, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow like they often were. Hanzo hovered, stood across from him and watched closely. He had a few molds in front of him, rounded skulls, that he had been pressing the sugar into.
“Is this for eating?” Hanzo asked.
Cassidy chuckled, shook his head, “nah this part ain’t for Halloween, they’re for decorating the ofrenda. These will dry, and then we can make them look nice, decorate them. I figured it’d be good for our newcomers who might be missin' home, if we celebrate the Day of the Dead too.”
“I see," he mused, considering the moment carefully, taking the opportunity that presented itself, “would you like some help?”
“I sure would," Cassidy pointed to the other side of the table with his chin, "pull up a chair.”
The granules of sugar were small, worked their way under every fingernail. He watched Cassidy demonstrate— dropping a couple handfuls of sugar into the mold, pressing down hard with the back of his fist. He copied, but must have not pressed down enough. When he flipped the mold and pulled it away the contents fell apart into a pale and mishappen mountain. Not very skull-like at all.
Hanzo rolled his eyes as Cassidy laughed at him, scraping it off the wax paper that lined the table and back into the mold.
“Aw man,” Cassidy giggled then, rubbed his hands together over the bowl of sugar, the sound was rough, as it fell like sand off his skin and back into the bowl. “Let me give you a little cultural lesson then.”
The chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, walked around the table with the click, click, click of his heels on the floor. Hanzo didn’t expect him to stand directly behind him, for his hands to reach over his shoulders and center the mold in front of him.
“Alright now let’s try this another way,” he tapped the mold on the table, leveling out its contents, leaning over so his chest brushed against Hanzo’s shoulder.
He stiffened, didn’t expect Cassidy to move so quickly, to grab his wrist and hold his open palm over the mold. Hanzo tried not to be awkward, tried to let himself be guided without resistance.
“I don’t think you pressed it hard enough, it’ll stick to itself if you do, hold its shape.”
“How unique.”
Hanzo turned to look at him then, his face very close to his own. Much closer than they’d ever been before, he could see the texture in his skin, the hairs in his mustache that were a little lighter or darker than the others. He took in these details quickly, catalogued them, looked away before it’d be considered staring.
“It’s fun, ain’t it? Man, doing this as a kid was the best,” he chuckled, “mine always looked ugly though, when they sat on the ofrenda next to my sister’s and my mama’s.”
Cassidy let his hand go, stood up straight. Hanzo was troubled by how quickly the proximity changed.
“Were you not as artistically gifted?”
“Nah, I was just squirrely. Couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes.”
Hanzo smiled at the image it conjured, tried not to chuckle as he spoke, “I can picture it.”
Cassidy reached into his space again, grabbed a piece of cardboard and held it tight behind the mold, flipping it quickly but gently, and placing it on the table. He gestured to it, for Hanzo to do the reveal. He lifted it carefully. The sugar didn’t stick, and he held his breath as it came into view. The features of it held intact, the cheekbones and browbones a prominent ridge for decorating. Hanzo had an idea of what it was supposed to look like, and was sure Cassidy would show him a better example when the time came.
“There ya go!” He bumped into Hanzo’s shoulder, grinning at him widely. “That one is all yours. Now onto the next one.”
He repeated the movement, flipping another perfectly formed skull onto the table next to the first. Cassidy returned to his spot, made them at about twice the speed Hanzo did, but once the table was full of them, they were finished, more skulls than members in case any of them cracked. Hanzo lingered, helping the man clean up. He broke the brief silence with a question while they worked.
“What movies did you pick for later?”
Cassidy paused as he wiped stray sugar off the table, looking up at him in surprise, “you gonna join us?”
“I never said I wasn’t going to,” he mumbled, a weak bluff.
The man rolled his eyes, “suuure,” he drawled, “well it’s a surprise, but you’ll be the first one I tell if I actually see you later.”
Hanzo considered it. The potential for individual attention from the man. He took a moment before he spoke, the room was clean again, the little white skulls in neat rows.
“I will hold you to that,” he announced, turning to leave, making a point not to look back at him as he left, but he heard the man chuckle again, a warm sound, as the doors slid shut behind him.